Oh Lucy, you almost had me…
The beginning? Chef’s kiss. Great setup, charming chaos, small-town vibes, and Harper — absolute sweetheart with a backbone. But somewhere around the middle, the story flatlined harder than my patience during Luke’s emotional constipation. There’s only so many times a man can push the heroine away before I start rooting for her to date literally anyone else (a random grocery clerk, a passing raccoon, doesn’t matter — just not Luke). He spends half the book being an idiot, the other half trying to make it up to her… and somehow fails at both. Meanwhile, Harper does everything short of fixing the nation’s economy — she heals his family trauma, his house, his business, probably his taxes too — and gets crumbs in return. Girl, blink twice if you need help. Lucy Score’s writing is still addictive, but this one? Way too long, too angsty, and not nearly rewarding enough. If pain and secondhand embarrassment are your thing, you’ll have a feast. Me? I’ll just be over here, wishing Harper had packed her bags and moved to a better book.




